I'm Keepin' You...part three

Created by: katanasky
  1. What is your age?
  2. What is your gender?
  1. Micheal and Riley are fighting, they're outside the cave so you can't hear them but it bothers you still. Caleb is still no better and still out. He looks pale in contrast with his dark hair and clothes. Tyler notices your discomfort and sits next to you, putting his arm around you. "I promise everything will be okay ---, I won't let nothing bad happen to you," he whispers. You sigh and lean against him. (You mean so much to me... more than anything... I wish I could tell you that) "---?" "Yes?" "I think you are a wonderful person..." he stammers. You smile at him. Then he leans towards you slowly. Lightly his lips brush against yours. He pulls away quickly when he sees Micheal come stomping back in. "Stupid, big-headed, f--- s--o--a--b---, a--h---!" He says. He freezes when he sees you and Tyler together. His jaw clenches and so do his fists. Tyler stiffens beside you, thinking (Oh please, I hope Micheal hasn't forgotten the agreement...) What agreement? you think. "Micheal," Tyler starts, standing up and facing Micheal. Micheal and Riley seem to be having Alpha male issues but so far, Tyler hasn't hit his bad side. Micheal looks at him, then stares at Caleb as Tyler talks. "I...I... think we should go back... for... supplies... just two of us..." Tyler suggests. Micheal's green eyes fly up to Tyler and he sends him a questioning look before weighing the decision. You're amazed how much this has aged Micheal. One day he was your awkward best friend, and now he was acting... and thinking... like a man. "I don't think so Tyler," he says quietly, looking back at Caleb. "Where's Riley?" you ask hesitantly. "If he's where I told him to go, maybe Hell," Micheal says coldly, looking at you. You don't read his thoughts. You're too scared. Then you hear a shout from outside the cave.
  2. Micheal grabs a gun and so does Tyler, and they run outside, though they both seemed to hesitate about leaving you alone. They go anyway, leaving you to protect Caleb. You bravely grab a gun. Then you decide to try something. You take Caleb's hand and delve into his mind. (flash) a young boy getting hit... over and over... (flash) a teenage boy running away... (flash) trying to get through life with his aunt... (flash) you... you... and you again... Always the memories are hidden behind dark bangs and from the sidelines. You pull back... feeling Caleb's pain. You're eyes tear up. "I'm so sorry..." you whisper, starting to slowly brush his dark hair back off his forehead. You don't notice his eyelids flutter or his breath catch. "---?" he asks quietly, sitting up slowly. "Caleb!" you shout, throwing your arms around his neck. He turns his head towards you and somehow your lips meet. You feel a jolt of electricity through your veins before he jumps back... shaking his head slowly, staring at you in amazement.
  3. "---... I'm sorry..." he says, eyes filled with confusion. Angry words come from outside. "You go get the g--dam- water yourfreakin'self!" Riley shouts, following Micheal inside, trailed by a pale Tyler. "You think your man enough to be in charge Riley Godayaz?" Micheal asks him, a deadly clam in his voice. Riley stares into your friend's eyes unflinchingly. "Micheal Lucas Harlan," Riley starts. "Then you can just freakin' prove it!" Micheal shouts, making you jump. Caleb slips his hand around yours. "How?" Riley asks. "Come with me... to get supplies... three days in the city, if you think you can," Micheal says. You want to protest. You don't really need supplies... Micheal sends you a cold look that silences you. "I'll do it." Riley says. Tyler turns even more pale. Caleb's hand on yours tightens. "Micheal, you know better, this isn't you, we're not animals!" Caleb begs, his voice hoarse. Micheal turns to look at him.
  4. After a while things seem to have calm down, but Riley is packing ammo and guns into the truck. Your stomach drops. You don't want either guy to get hurt... but you know the boys are about to make a big mistake.
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